"What is it, Alazon?" Darcel Kinlafia's brown eyes looked into eyes of gray, and Alazon Yanamar didn't need the bond between them to taste his deep concern. "What's worrying her so badly?"

He turned his head away once again, gazing down the palace corridor where Grand Princess Andrin had just disappeared. The young woman's spine was as straight, her carriage as graceful, as ever, but her eyes had been unquiet for days, cosmetics could not disguise the dark shadows under them, and she had walked past Alazon and Kinlafia without even noticing their presence.

"I can't tell you that, love."

Alazon reached up and touched his cheek gently, and his eyes narrowed. There were times when the closeness of a bond like theirs had its downside. He could tell that whatever was haunting Andrin was causing Alazon deep distress, as well. At the same time, he was a Voice himself. He understood the responsibilities, the privacy oaths of any Voice, far less the Emperor of Ternathia's Privy Voice.

"I'm sorry," he said contritely. "I shouldn't have asked you. It's just that ... I hate seeing her this way."

"I know you do." Alazon stroked his cheek one more time, then tucked her arm through his and began walking him down the same corridor. "I think everyone does," she continued. "Triad knows I do, but then," she glanced up at him, "most of us have known her since she was a little girl."

"Point taken, My Lady," he said with a slightly lopsided smile.

"If you don't want to tell me what's going on between the two of you, that's fine," she Said, deliberately using her Voice so there could be no question of her sincerity. "But if it's something I can help with—

help her or you—you know you only have to ask."

"Of course I know," he Told her in reply. "And it's certainly not that I don't want to tell you. It's just that I'm not really sure what's happening myself. And there are some ... privacy issues of my own I have to work through."

"I can understand that," she Said, and in the side traces of her Voice, he Heard her memory of the echoes she'd felt when his shared Glimpse with Zindele had hammered through him. She couldn't help feeling that memory, putting it together with a dozen other little clues, and realizing—in general terms, at least—what must have happened. Yet she made absolutely no effort to use the knowledge he knew she already possessed as some sort of opening wedge, and he sent a warm flood of love and gratitude over their bond.

"You know she's already planning to organize our wedding for us, don't you?" Alazon continued, her mental tone lighter as she deliberately changed the subject. "From a few things she's said, I think she's planning on pulling out all the stops, too."

"Oh, wonderful!" Kinlafia's Voice was so tart Alazon chuckled out loud. "You do realize that my parents—both of my parents—are good New Farnalian Social Republicans, don't you? They're going to have enough trouble with my marrying an emperor's privy voice without having said emperor's daughter organizing the ceremony!"

"Oh, stop worrying!" she Scolded. "Every parent wants his or her child to do well in life. Just because your parents are Socialists doesn't change that! After you get elected to the new Imperial House of Talents, they'll be so proud of you they won't even notice who you're marrying. For that matter, you may find they've turned into staunch Imperialists once they see you wheeling and dealing in the very cockpit of power, as it were."

Kinlafia rolled his eyes.

"If simple confidence were enough to get elected, we wouldn't even have to count the ballots with you around," he Said dryly. "Unfortunately, I think it's a little more complicated than that."

"Not when Zindel chan Calirath puts his mind to it, it isn't," she Told him serenely. "And not when the candidate is as completely and totally right for the job as you are."

He squeezed her elbow against his side as the warmth and confidence flowed out of her into him, and yet her mention of the Emperor had brought him back his concern over Andrin. Zindel was older than Andrin, more experienced at dealing with—and concealing—the telltale symptoms of a Glimpse ... despite which, it was obvious to Kinlafia that whatever was riding Andrin like some sort of unrelenting nightmare was also pursuing Zindel. And the ripples spreading from his and his daughter's anxiety were afflicting the Empress and her younger daughters, as well, even if they had no idea what that anxiety's root cause might be.

"Maybe the Ball will help," Alazon Said hopefully.

"And maybe the Ball will send her right over the edge!" Kinlafia shook his head. "The mere thought of it is coming close to having that effect on me, at any rate!"

"Nonsense! You'll be the most handsome man there, not to mention the most famous. In fact, I'm planning to be intolerably jealous when all these court ladies come fluttering around you, asking to dance."

"Oh, don't worry about that!" Kinlafia chuckled. "Did I forget to mention that I never learned to dance?" His brown eyes danced wickedly. "Trust me, as soon as I've crushed a few ladies' delicate toes, you won't have any trouble at all keeping me all to yourself!"

"Voice Kinlafia?"

Alazon had been about to reply when the voice from behind cut them off. They stopped, looking over their shoulders, and saw an armsman in the green and gold of the Caliraths, who bowed to them both with grave courtesy.

"Your pardon, Voice Kinlafia, but His Majesty would be very grateful for a few moments of your time."

Kinlafia's mouth felt suddenly dry, and his pulse rate picked up.

"Of course," he said quickly. "Would now be a convenient time for him?"

"He hoped you could come promptly," the armsman agreed, and Kinlafia turned to peck a quick kiss on Alazon's cheek.

"I'll see you again as soon as I can, my dear," he told her. "After all, we have that delightful appointment with the tailor this afternoon, don't we?"

Alazon smiled at him, then nodded and released his arm. He gave her an answering smile before he turned to the armsman and beckoned for the other man to lead the way. He followed the armsman down the passageway, and as he went, he felt Alazon's warm, loving touch on his mind and heart.

"Thank you for coming, Darcel."

Kinlafia's left eyebrow rose very slightly as Zindel chan Calirath turned from the view through his study windows to greet his guest. So far, the Emperor had always been careful to begin any interview or conversation with Kinlafia by greeting him formally, as "Voice Kinlafia." For a moment, Kinlafia wondered if today's change was some sort of deliberate tactic on Zindel's part, but then he felt that same mysterious something he'd felt at their very first meeting radiating from the Emperor. Using his given name hadn't been any sort of ploy; it was simply a measure of Zindel's concern that he'd forgotten the formal courtesy. And it was also, Kinlafia realized, a reflection of Zindel's awareness that whatever else might happen in this universe or any other, Darcel Kinlafia would face it at his daughter's side.

"Yes," Zindel said, almost as if he'd been the Voice, reading Kinlafia's surface thoughts, "it's about Andrin."

"Your Majesty, I'm sure there are other—" Kinlafia began, but then he stopped himself. There was no point in pretending, not when Zindel was as aware as he himself was of the bizarre fashion in which he had shared in the Emperor's Glimpse.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he said instead. "It would be pretty foolish, I suppose, to pretend I don't know what you're talking about. Of course," he managed a smile of sorts, "understanding it is something else again!"

"I'm sorry, too, Darcel," Zindel said with simple sincerity.

He walked over to the chair behind his desk and sank into it, then waved for Kinlafia to be seated in another chair at the end of the desk, close enough for comfortable conversation. Kinlafia was well aware that one was not supposed to sit in the Emperor's presence, yet it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to accept the invitation. He sat, cocking his head to one side, and waited for Zindel to explain why he'd been summoned.

It took the Emperor several seconds of uncharacteristic hesitation, then he cleared his throat.

"I'm sure you've figured out by now that Janaki had more than one reason for suggesting you run for office," he said.

"Your Majesty, I realized that the first time he made the suggestion," Kinlafia replied. "I didn't ask him what those other reasons were, although perhaps I should have. But I knew they were there."

"And you accepted his suggestion anyway." The fleetingness of Zindel's smile seemed to shout his anxiety to the Voice. "It must have been that damned Calirath 'magnetism,'"thinspace"" the Emperor continued. "Janaki always has had more than his fair share of it."

"I think they issue it with your birth certificates, actually, Your Majesty." Kinlafia produced a small smile of his own, although he was beginning to suspect that what he'd just said came very close to being the literal truth.

"Well, at any rate," Zindel said, "after our little shared experience at dinner, I strongly suspect—no, I don't suspect; I know—that you've figured out at least a part of what Janaki's other reasons were."

"Yes, I have, I think," Kinlafia admitted. "And if you'll pardon my saying so, Your Majesty, it scares the ever-living shit out of me. It's so far above anything I ever thought of as being my pay grade that I get a nosebleed just thinking about it."

"You'll get over it."

It could have been a simple conversational throwaway, and it could have been a condescension, but it was neither. It was a simple statement of fact, as if the Emperor had mentioned that the sun was likely to rise somewhere in the east tomorrow morning.

"I certainly hope you're right about that ... even if it does seem a little unlikely at the moment."

Zindel chuckled, but then he shook his head and leaned slightly towards Kinlafia.

"Janaki's Talent isn't as strong as mine," he said, "and mine isn't as strong as Andrin's." His sea-gray eyes, so much like his son's and his elder daughter's, seemed to hold unquiet ghosts as his gaze met Kinlafia's. "In fact, I'm coming to the conclusion that Andrin has one of the truly legendary Talents. Her Glimpses are far stronger than mine ever were, far less than mine were at her age. I'm very much afraid that for her, like for many of her ancestors, her Talent's very strength is going to be the curse she bears.